Window Shopping
by Chriss Corkscrew
Summary: Kryten's being very naughty (not for the faint-hearted, this is definitely of the slash-genre).


Kryten looked around guiltily

Title:Window Shopping.

Author:Chriss Corkscrew

Copyright:2001-08-29

Disclaimer:This is too naughty to have been written by me.Maybe Rob Grant did it, and he owns them anyway so no need to apologise for the use of Red Dwarf characters . . .

Authors note:This is dedicated to Tronella (who has been making an effort to push back the boundaries and who asked me to get on and write something) and to the Red Dwarf Slash Society who are lovely, supportive and hopelessly, helplessly warped.I love you guys! 

P.S – I wrote this just after getting a Typhoid jab.So if it's awful please blame the serum.

Kryten looked around guiltily.Ms Kochanski was out; he was all alone in his cell.There was absolutely no reason for him not to put on the video, but he shouldn't.

Archie should have been enough.He knew enough about men to realise that a real man should have no interest in another mans, well, another mans man.But still.Archie winked at him.He put it on.

The whole Krytie TV incident should have warned the men.They should have realised.With no guilt chip he had been able to film the women for the men's amusement.They should have realised that the reverse applied.Anyway, he hadn't shown the women (he doubted they would have paid); there hadn't been time before his guilt chip had been reactivated.Yet he had kept it anyway.Something inside of him wanted to see.

He pressed the play button.His stint as a man (having been 'thrown' out of the women's showers, cells and gender for a brief, conscience-free moment) had allowed him access to the men's showers.Guilty yet urgent he watched the tape.

The Cat first, interesting from an anatomical standpoint, not for the first time buyer.His software came in a different colour to that of his colleagues and, with six additional nipples he would be able to not only pick up Jazz FM but the traffic news and police radio too.Built lean and hard he was obviously a sporty model yet, with the obvious drawbacks of the most fashionable new models he had little memory, too much speed and no real soul to speak of.Kryten had better taste.

Then Rimmer.Paler than the other two, his wide chest made it abundantly clear that this was a bulkier, and earlier manufactured model, frustratingly pedantic with long drawn out and exact processes required to achieve the most simple action.His software was in a smaller form, confusingly this indicated it was from a newer generation of hardware but then humans were often an unpredictable clash of information.His small pink nipples and delicately picked-out features indicated a much more fragile system to that of the Cat, one which, without careful handling, might be prone to crashing unpredictably, so not the system for him.

Then the ideal.The paragon of technology.Mr Lister.Creamy and round, his curves just cried out to be stroked.His tempting dark orifices, washed clean in the shower, spoke of hours of joy, providing interesting washing and of a visually compelling set of output sockets.Lister shifted slightly as he washed his chest, the water cascading down his ample yet functional buttocks and then Kryten saw, to his unspeakable joy, Lister's expansive software.How he longed to input data into Lister's system, to make his software hard and imprint his own into Lister hard drive.How he dreamt of having access to that deep soul, that memory of depth and clarity with a user-friendly access policy and voice activated recognition system.How he longed to introduce his program to Lister's, how compatible he knew they were and how he knew, even on the instalment plan, that he could never, ever afford such technology, or be worthy of operating it.

He looked to Archie, inadequate Archie, the software without the programming behind it.How alone he felt, nothing could compare to his human.His perfect human.Dreadlocks glistened in the video.Kryten sighed in wonderment.Only a superior piece of machinery came with such an advanced form of furry dice. . .


End file.
